


Anxious

by Str4y



Series: Broken [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Camboy!Minho, Consensual Sex, Coping, Explicit Language, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Pain, Past Rape/Non-con, Secrets, Sequel, Shower Sex, Smut, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Str4y/pseuds/Str4y
Summary: Chan was a professional. Or at least he was supposed to be. Nothing could have prepared him for the damage that was Lee Minho, nor could he prepare himself for falling in love with him.And secrets, he should have probably never kept secrets from his patient.Part 7 to chime/broken
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix
Series: Broken [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1328600
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	Anxious

**Author's Note:**

> Warning just include that this is apart of the non con series and Minho mentions past abuse. It’s mostly angst and there’s some smut in this one.
> 
> If I missed any tags please let me know. I’ve read this fic over a few times but I’m bound to miss typos and tags.
> 
> ** Kim Woojin has been replaced with Chan

Chan had heard a lot of shit. He’d seen a lot of shit. He was used to this shit. Or, he was supposed to be. Supposed to be professional, calm, and collected. 

He was none of those things. He wasn’t professional. Or calm. Or collected. He was panicked, pained, and incoherent. Chan should have been able to handle this. This was just another case. Another paycheck. Another job. He didn’t think that his entire life would be eaten up by this man’s sob story—no, sob story was way too harsh. And Minho didn’t deserve that. 

Lee Minho. Chan wasn’t sure what to expect at first. Maybe he expected someone who was docile, and scared. Maybe he just expected silence—Which he received for awhile, that and incoherent stuttering. But honestly, Chan just didn’t know what the fuck he was taking on. 

College aged man found near death in a vehicle in the mountains. The heat was on but he was found shaking. His body was full of sedatives, face covered in bruises and cuts. He had his hand wrapped. It had been ultimately destroyed. From what Chan had been told, the police at the scene couldn’t stop vomiting once the paramedics had unwrapped it. Chan couldn’t imagine that sight. 

He couldn’t imagine any of that night. The tiny details he’d been given from just Minho’s file were enough to terrify him. So many flaws and issues with his file too. Lee Minho seemed like an interesting case to take. At first. As the sessions went on, Chan could feel his own mental state deteriorate. 

Minho was sweet. Like, really sweet. Even if he was a stuttery mess of incoherent babbling and could barely complete any sentences worthwhile, he was sweet. He didn’t. Nobody deserved what had happened, but Minho? He really didn’t deserve it. 

Chan’s stomach was burning. He was sweating, brown hair sticking to his forehead. He felt sick. Tired. He didn’t really want to move. He didn’t want to do much of anything. This wasn’t supposed to affect him so badly. 

Minho wasn’t supposed to get under his skin so badly. 

Chan had an arm over the toilet seat, body sprawled across the bathroom floor as his empty bottle rest against his knee. He’s been doing this awhile now. Drinking himself to exhaustion. He knew he had a problem. It was starting, he could stop it, right? 

His throat stung as he pulled his phone from his pocket, blinking in pain at the bright screen that was staring back at him without mercy. It was around three in the morning. He shouldn’t be up. He had work the next morning. He needed to pull himself up. Get it together. 

But he didn’t. Not for awhile. He continued this cycle. Drinking as soon as he got home, studying Minho’s file, crying himself to sleep because he knew he was being useless. It was constant. 

He felt useless. 

And he was also, a piece of shit. 

“Hey baby.”

This was wrong. It wasn’t cute. Or funny. There wasn’t anything to gain from this. 

“I missed you.”

His voice was full of confidence. No stuttering, no pain. Just sultry whispers laced in lust. His voice was so sexy. So appealing. No wonder he ranked so well despite his identity being hidden. 

Jesus, even after the news. After everything that had come out about Minho, he ranked so high. Chan figured that was mostly from the incident. Who wouldn’t want to watch someone after their identity had been leaked? 

Chan was tense, fingers clutching the mouse as the man on screen angled the camera to follow the lines of white across his stomach. 

This was wrong. Watching these felt wrong. 

This wasn’t even the same man. This was pre-Jisung. This was just a college kid trying to earn extra cash jerking it for strangers.

But it felt so wrong. This was Minho. That nervous headcase who needed way more than therapy and some e-cigs. Minho. 

Chan let out a deep sigh as he pulled his fingers back from the mouse, tugging tissues forcefully from the small box at his stand. 

He felt sick. Getting off to this. Thinking this was...hot or whatever. This was wrong. This was his patient!?

“Shit…” Chan wiped his fingers, shaking his head at himself. He was disgusting. He was no better than the people on the sidebar who left disturbing comments about how Minho needs to come back to camming. About how he should come back and shove his stub up—no. People were sick. Demented and twisted. 

Chan wasn’t a bad guy for getting off to who Minho used to be. He was a camboy. His job was getting people off. Chan wasn’t wrong for enjoying the show...he wasn’t. 

But shit did it feel wrong. 

“Are you okay?”

Minho has gotten better. He was coherent. He didn’t stutter too often and he was opening up more. Talking about little things. And yeah, he panicked a few times. That was normal. 

He had passed out. After talking about his hand, he just panicked. Luckily he was sleeping soundly, curled up on the couch. Chan kept his distance usually, but he couldn’t help but pat the younger man’s hair, whispering tiny encouragements. Minho had done good today. He opened up a lot. Even if Chan wanted to run away and die after hearing it, Minho did good. 

Chan had been very unprofessional. Hugging his patient. The patient he was supposed to be helping and examining, and by examining he didn’t mean jacking off to at night while he drank himself to his breaking point. Nightly. He did that shit too often. Holding Minho was bad. 

The next time he saw Minho, bad. He knew that he probably looked wild, eyes puffy and dark. No amount of showering or coffee could make Chan look okay. Not after the last session. Not after Minho breaking down about his hand. Breaking down and Chan holding him. He was, Chan didn’t know what he was. 

“Have you been sleeping?”

A simple question had landed Chan into a new territory of unprofessionalism. He had surpassed bad behavior. He was a fool. A train wreck. He knew better, yet here he was, eating with Minho. 

He was even helping Minho eat, laughing and drinking with him. It wasn’t good. This relationship. This friendliness. Minho deserved better, and Chan deserved nothing. 

“—How could anyone ever hurt you?”

A simple question led to laughter. Led to drinking and teasing. Led to Chan clinging onto Minho as they entered his apartment. This was foolish. Chan knew this. 

But he couldn’t contain himself once he was drunk. He couldn’t stop himself from telling Minho to stay. He practically forced him. Which he felt awful about. Making Minho stay out of his comfort zone. Staying with him despite knowing the best thing was for Minho to go home. 

But clearly, drunk Chan wasn’t the smartest Chan. 

He slept in the same bed with Minho. He wouldn’t even let him have some privacy, which Minho clearly deserved.

Chan couldn’t help but stare at the peaceful man beside him, lips slightly parted as he slept. Part of Chan wanted to look under the covers. To see his hand—. But another part wanted to wash Minho’s clothes. Get him home as soon as possible. He valued Minho. He didn’t want to hurt him. 

He didn’t expect that washing Minho’s clothes would hurt him. Scare Minho and cause him to panic. But he should have known better. Minho was terrified of how Chan would react to his arms. To his hands. He knew Chan would feel discomfort. 

But discomfort turned around again. And Minho was letting Chan wash his hair...just over the tub, allowing Chan access. Allowing Chan to do something that he couldn’t do on his own. 

Minho was surreal. And Chan was a fool. To touch Minho’s cheek so intimately, to look so longingly at someone who needed his help over affection. 

Touching Minho was too far. No, bringing him home was too far. 

Everything he was doing with Minho was too far. 

Listening to the story. To the painful parts. To everything. To Minho unwrapping his hands. Fuck, his hands. Chan knew it would be bad. But he didn’t expect the burns. The extra painful marks that were pressed into his skin. 

It was too much. 

But the thing that had stuck so heavily with Chan wasn’t the state of Minho’s hand, or the fact that Minho was finally speaking out about the incident. The thing that stuck was the fact that someone else was there. Someone else had been there. It made sense, how could Minho get into the car? Why was Jisung so far away? Too many things added up and made perfect sense to him now. 

However, it didn’t at the same time.

Nothing really made sense. Who the hell had gone there to help Minho? How much had they witnessed? Why did they leave the crime scene? Too much didn’t fit. 

Who was there?

“Thanks for bringing him by. Why didn’t you take him to his moms?” Seungmin. 

Seungmin had been suspicious from the get go. Somehow he knew Changbin. He knew Jisung. He was close to Minho after everything that had happened. And now Chan could only feel apprehensive around him. Like Seungmin knew more. 

“I had to talk to you.” Chan started, keeping an eye on Minho who was snuggled up in Seungmins bed. 

“About what?” The red haired male asked, carding fingers through Minho’s dyed hair, “did he say anything alarming?”

“Felix should keep his cigarettes away from him,”’Chan began, “but you probably know, don’t you?”

Seungmin stilled, “know about what?”

“Him burning himself.”

“Oh.”

“How long have you known?” Chan murmured as Minho shifted in the bed, “have you talked to him about it?”

“I don’t know how to,” Seungmin started, “I’ve seen them a couple times now but I really don’t know how to bring it up. If it’s way of coping...I’d rather him do that than harm himself with something sharp.”

“I don’t think he wants to...he’s punishing himself. I don’t think he wants to die at all.” Chan whispered, keeping an eye on Minho. “If you can please try to keep him from doing it. I’d appreciate it. It would also help with actually healing him.”

“I don’t think taking away cigarettes will do much,”

“Maybe not.” 

Sitting with Seungmin was weird. Seungmin was weird. Chan wasn’t really sure how he felt about him. He cared about Minho, sure. But he was so odd. 

“Minho told me something he said he hadn’t told you two.” Was this okay?

“What was it?” Seungmin has concern over his face, fingers stilling in the sleeping mans hair. 

“Minho said there was someone else there.”

Chan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t crazy. He was right. He knew he was right. He wasn’t yet making this up. 

“Who?”

He knew it. In an off-putting stare down, he knew. 

“You know, don’t you?”

Seungmin shifted, eyes darting away, “no, I wouldn’t. Who did he say it was? Why didn’t he report it?”

“You reported it, didn’t you?”

Seungmin. His breakdown with Minho, his involvement with everything. It made sense. Seungmin was the one who saved Minho. He somehow managed to do it. 

“I didn’t know anything about—“

“Come with me.” Chan spoke, pulling up from the bed to walk out into the hall. The last thing he wanted was for Minho to wake up and hear them talking about this. 

Seungmin surprisingly followed like a lost puppy, all the way down the hall until Chan finally stopped, turning to face the shaky man behind. Yeah. Seungmin knew. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know—“

“He trusts you. So I’m giving you my trust here. What happened that night. How did you get to Minho? Why did you move Jisungs body?”

Seungmin shuddered, “Chan I—“

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to report you.” 

“Listen, I didn’t know what I was walking into.” He did it. Seungmin was there. “I was just meeting Changbin that night. He didn’t show up so I tracked his phone.” 

Chan nodded, arms crossed, “you tracked his phone?”

“It’s an app. We were going to have dinner while he was in town but he never showed.”

“He’d been missing for a couple days, hadn’t he?” Chan wasn’t sure by that one. No one had reported it but he remembered Minho mentioning how Changbin hadn’t contacted him in days. 

“I don’t think so? He was having issues with a friend who...I guess was Minho. We were going to have dinner together later in the week.”

“So what made you go into the mountains?”

“I hadn’t heard from him.” Seungmin crossed his own arms, eyes filling with sympathy, “I was worried so I tracked his phone. I lost signal after awhile but eventually I—“

“What did you see?”

“I saw Jisungs car.”

“Another friend of yours.”

“Hardly...but yes.”

“And you got out?”

“I saw Changbin’s body.”

Chan tilted his head. How? 

“The trunk was shut when they found—“

“I closed it.”

“Your fingerprints would have—“

“Gloves.”

Chan sighed, “so you closed it. Why didn’t you call the police immediately?”

“I saw Minho. I didn’t know who he was but I saw him close to the car. On the ground. He was shivering.”

Chan winced, “So you put him in the car?”

“I did…he would have died if I hadn’t turned in the heat.”

“You wrapped his hand?”

“Yes. I called the police soon after.”

Chan shook his head, “explain the blood in the back seat.”

Seungmin tilted his head, “I don’t know anything about that...I just know the police said it was Jisungs.”

That didn’t make sense. 

“Okay, why was Jisungs body found miles away?”

Seungmin shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

He was lying. 

“Why did you move him?”

“I didn’t. I just stumbled upon the scene. I don’t know—“

“Why did you keep this from Minho?”

Seungmin was shaking. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose unsteadily. He was hiding more. So much more. Chan could see it all over his face. 

“Never tell him.”

That wasn’t fair. 

“He deserves to know. It’s eating him alive—“

“It’s your job to fix him, not mine.” Seungmin shuddered, “in the beginning I didn’t know him. I didn’t know anything about him outside of the awful shit Jisung told me—“

Seungmin stopped, eyes widening as if he’d said too much. What the fuck had Jisung told him. Chan clenched his fist. He had to stay calm. 

“Seungmin. What did he say?”

Seungmin bit his lower lip, “Please never repeat this. If you tell him...oh god.” Seungmin took Chan’s arm, pulling him farther from the door to the bed Minho lay in, hand trembling over his lips, “Jisung was...he was awful. He used to talk about him like he was an object.”

Chan nodded, squinting eyes to Seungmin, “like what?”

“He told me about the night with Hyunjin. About…” Seungmin paused, taking a deep breath, “he told me that a few weeks later he went to Minho’s apartment.”

Chan stilled, “and?”

“He hurt him.”

Chan slammed his hand at the wall, Seungmin barely moving an inch, “what do you mean?”

“He didn’t tell me specifics. Just that he started seeing him after that. And he talked about Minho like he didn’t care about him. I didn’t know Minho. I didn’t know who he was or—“

“You let Jisung hurt him?”

Seungmin shook his head, “no, he...he said something alarming that night. That he was going to kill someone who got into a fight with him. But Jisung always joked like that.”

“Changbin?”

“Yeah…”

“Your other friend.”

Seungmin averted his eyes. Oh?

“He was your friend, wasn’t he?”

Seungmin took a deep breath, “not necessarily.”

“Why did you lie?”

“I wanted to protect Minho.”

“How was that—“

“I knew he’d come,” Seungmins breaths were shakier. He was cracking, “after seeing him that night. After seeing what Jisung did I had to take care of him. It was my fault.”

Chan grimaced. This was a lot. He suspected Seungmin was...odd. But this was? This was a lot. 

“When I put him in the car he was drugged. I just wrapped his hand. I called the police and then I—“

“You moved him.”

“I put him in his car at first. He was already dead.” Seungmin whispered, “but then I thought...why not dump him. Let him rot like he...like the people he murdered.”

“How did you know he was off the cliff? How long did you watch?” Chan growled back, trying to keep his voice low. He was trying to stay calm. But this was...could Seungmin have stopped anything!?

“When I got there they were fighting.” Seungmin whispered, “I saw Jisung go over the cliff.”

“Minho was drugged?”

“I don’t know when Jisung did it. Minho collapsed into the snow. I saw and rushed over.” Seungmin stammered, “I...he looked awful. I just put him in the car and wrapped his hand. I went to check Jisung and—“

“Dead?” 

“Yes. I dragged him into his car and the. Decided to dump him. I called and left.”

“Why did you leave? What if Minho had—“

“But he didn’t.” Seungmin winced, tears welling in his eyes, “he survived and I took responsibility. I know it’s my fault. I should have taken Jisung seriously. Then maybe everyone would still be alive.” 

Chan shook his head, rubbing his temples in frustration, “you knew...this whole time.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell him. Tell someone…”

“If I tell him, he’ll be crushed. Do you want that?”

“It’s best to—“

“It’s best to bury it.” Seungmin sniffled, “he’s happy. If he finds out I knew anything about this...I don’t know what would happen. I love him, Chan.” Chan winced. “I care so deeply for him. I can’t lose him because of circumstances. I can’t.”

“He might understand that—“

“He won’t. You don’t know him like I do. I know he’s told you a lot but he sleeps here every night practically. He’s become my best friend. He would be crushed. He’d be inconsolable.”

Chan let out a pained sigh, crossing his arms, “so what? Never tell him?”

“Maybe one day. But...I can’t lose him. He’s not ready to hear it.”

Chan just had to let it go. As much as he wanted to beat Seungmin into the ground, he wasn’t a bad guy. Seungmin saved Minho. He did. Seungmin, although hidden, was his savior. Chan couldn’t let Minho spiral. Not anymore than he already had. Chan couldn’t let that happen. He refused. 

——

Chan saw it coming. Months—no years later. Two years of Minho opening up. Two years of having to conceal that he knew who saved Minho. Two years of growth. Of hearing Minho’s genuine giggles. Of hanging out with Felix who was just as bubbly, of growing to like Seungmin. Two years. It took two years for Minho to call off their sessions. To start group therapy. He was better. A lot better. He still needed more. But he insisted leaving the sessions to group.

He wanted what was best for Minho. Maybe stopping was good. Otherwise Chan was worried he’d never help Minho get better. He couldn’t tell Minho the biggest secret. He couldn’t tell Minho the detail that he’d slowly forgotten. Slowly stopped worrying about. Minho leaving their sessions was good. 

——-

“How’s it going with Seungmin?” Chan asked. 

“You’re stalling, huh?” Minho laughed, lolling his head in the passenger seat, pretty almond eyes watching Chan’s every move, “My mom liked you. A lot.”

He was. Kind of. 

“I’m glad she did. I wasn’t too awkward was I?” 

Minho beamed from ear to ear, reaching his fingers to Chan’s chin. He’d grown so affectionate over the years. Little touches of course. Their work relationship only ended earlier that day. 

Now they were sitting in front of Seungmin and Felix’s, Minho having moved in permanently. It gave Chan a strange comfort, that they were all together. It was better for Minho. They were good for him. 

“Chan?”

“Sorry, I kind of—“

“Don’t be cheesy and say you got lost in my eyes.”

Chan shook his head with a laugh of his own, licking his lips as he let his attention fall on the house, “and if I did?”

“I’d find that endearing. Cute.” Minho laughed. His laugh. It was probably Chan’s favorite sound, “but ah, Seungmin and I are okay. We’re doing okay.” 

Chan turned back to face Minho, “he’s still distant?”

“Ever since I talked to him about the whole night. It was probably a lot for him to hear. I mean, I had to tell him about Changbin and that his friend was this monster and—“

Chan stopped him, slipping his fingers from the steering wheel to Minho’s cheek. It was soft. Per usual. 

Minho smiled, kind of nuzzling into Chan a bit, “wanna walk me to the door?”

“I will,” Chan whispered, watching Minho closely. He didn’t want to shut him up. Well, not entirely. He was worried anytime Minho brought up the ordeal he might remember more. He felt awful, but Minho not remembering was the best for him. 

“When?” Minho whispered, voice so soft and low. Fuck. Maybe this was the worst moment for this. Or maybe it was the best. It wasn’t like Chan didn’t want to. For the last couple years it’s kind of all he wanted. Though he was actually trying to help Minho, he wanted to do this. So badly. 

It wasn’t even him that made the first move. It was Minho. Surprisingly Minho leaned over in the seat, lips just barely ghosting Chan’s. Maybe to test the waters. When was the last time Minho had kissed anyone? Chan had been in some one night stands since he met Minho, sure. But Jesus Christ, chances were that Minho hadn’t touched anyone’s lips since—

It was soft. Just as expected. Soft and sweet, and it completely captivated him. Minho was so soft. So gentle and Minho’s lips were so nice against his own. 

Minho’s fingers moved to Chan’s cheek, tapping his digits against the skin as his lips just barely parted. Chan could feel shivers running down his spine,lips parting. 

It was a new feeling. Chan wasn’t sure how to go about it. Did he take control? Did he let Minho? It was so soft. So gentle. He’d let Minho control it. It’s what he deserved, right? 

Minho unbuckled his seatbelt, pressing more into the kiss as he pulled Chan closer, letting out a happy little sigh before finally parting those plush lips. And Chan didn’t even try to stop it. He just let their mouths melt together, that tingly feeling sticking with him as he moved his hand from Minho’s face to Minho’s back, fingertips dancing along. He didn’t expect Minho’s tongue. But he gladly accepted it. 

Chan lost track of time. Lost track of everything as Minho’s hand finally left his face along with those lips, a tiny strand of saliva between their lips sending Chan’s thoughts ablaze. 

Minho was silent a moment, blinking at Chan like he wanted to say something. But he couldn’t find the words or something. 

“I’m so—“

“Let me walk you to the door.” Chan interrupted, letting his hand leave Minho’s back to press against his cheek again, “you should get some sleep.”

Minho took a moment to respond, but nodded quickly, opening his door and nearly staggering out of the car. 

The walk to the door was awkward. The standing and staring at each other for moments was awkward. 

“I’m sorry if I jumped at that too soon,” Minho sighed, eye twitching as if he wanted to tear them away. 

“You didn’t.”

“I mean we’re not dating and we literally ended the professional relationship today and—“

Chan figured kissing Minho again would help. For some reason it’s all that came to mind. It wasn’t like it had been on his mind forever. He wanted to kiss him so badly. Hold him as tight as he could. He just really liked Minho. A lot. So much. 

Minho sighed again, but it was filled with content. He seemed happy, his fingertips even grabbing the end of Chan’s shirt, lips dancing together again as they had in the car. 

Kissing Minho was nice. Fulfilling. It made the butterflies inside of Chan’s stomach scream. He really liked Minho. Jesus Christ did he like him. 

“Thank you,” Minho finally breathed, pulling away to flutter those pretty lashes, “for coming tonight.”

Damn. 

Chan grabbed Minho’s face in his hands, locking their lips again. He really couldn't get enough. And by the way Minho was melting as Chan pressed him back into the door was telling. Minho couldn’t get enough either. If Chan could pick anywhere to spend the rest of his time, it would be right here. With Minho. 

“Okay.” Minho’s breaths were messy as he finally pushed Chan back with his hand, giggling filling the silent night around them, “if we don’t stop now it never will.” 

Oh. Stopping was a good thing. 

“Yeah, stopping is good.” Chan whispered, fingers carding into Minho’s hair just a moment before he backed himself up, hands sliding into his pockets to prevent them from grabbing at Minho’s pretty face again, “I’ll see you—“

“Tomorrow. When you pick me up for our second date.” 

Chan couldn’t stop the cheesy grin that crossed his face, or the laugh that left as Minho shook his head with the widest smile of his own. God, Minho. Chan would have never thought. Minho. 

——

“So,” Chan expected this. He did, “what are your intentions with our boy here?” Felix asked, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth, eyes squinting as if he was ready to attack. 

“Ah, I’m taking him to dinner.”

“Dinner, huh?” Felix snorted, “and then where?”

Chan could see the corners of Felix’s mouth struggling to stay serious, “and then here. Deliver him to bed.”

“Alone?” Felix inquired, face stilling again, “it’s the third date but that doesn’t mean—“

“straight to bed.” Chan added, biting at his bottom lip, “believe me, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Felix asked, popping another popcorn into his mouth, chewing with passion, “what’s wrong with him?”

“Felix, leave him alone before Minho hears you.” Seungmin sighed, settling into the chair beside Felix, resting his head into the nape of his neck. 

Seungmin. They hadn’t spoken too much. They kept their distance. And Chan knew that it was getting to Minho. 

“Hi Seungmin.” Chan wasn’t sure how to ever talk to him. They’d hung out at the house a few times since the first date. Felix had kept his eyes on Chan throughout an entire movie night, and even hissed as Chan slid his arm around Minho. Seungmin however, hadn’t paid him much mind. 

Seungmin nodded tiredly in reply, nuzzling against Felix who was continuing his angry chewing. 

“I promise you it’s just a date.”

“Better be.” Felix eyed. 

“Are they bothering you again?” Minho. As soon as Minho emerged from the hall in that sleeveless tank, Chan nearly lost his mind. 

“No, they’re alright. Keeping me in check.” He laughed, a piece of popcorn hitting his forehead as Felix scrunched his nose. 

“How nice of them.” Minho laughed, finally making his way to Chan, leaning down to press those soft lips against Chan’s. 

Chan could see Felix’s expression darken some. But he knew they were just trying to protect him. The last thing Chan wanted to do was...do the thing they had bugged him about. That’s the last thing Minho needed right now. The last thing on Chan’s mind. 

“Well, I’m ready to go if you are.” Minho whispered, pulling away to slide on the jacket that hung over one of the chairs, “we can hang out with them after.”

Felix scrunched his nose to Minho this time, Minho doing the same but ten times cuter. Not that Chan was biased. Well, maybe he was. 

“Okay.” Chan nodded to the other two, Minho locking their fingers together before leading them towards the door. 

——

Dinner was supposed to be nice. Minho had gotten uncomfortable early on from some stares from a table across from them. It wasn’t some fancy place or anything. And it wasn’t like they looked out of place. It was...Minho’s wrist. They’d been out a bunch of times before, unofficial dates and official ones, but they hadn’t had anyone stare in such...disgust. Not to mention the whispers that even Chan could make out. 

“Minho, do you want to leave?”

Maybe asking hurt Minho more. The younger man just shook his head, staring into his drink. He didn’t say anything back. For Chan, that was a problem. That only confirmed he was /that/ hurt by what was happening. 

“We can go to the car, go somewhere else.” Chan slipped his hand across the table, taking Minho’s fingers that rest tightly over his coveted wrist. Minho was shaking. 

“I’m fine.”

“Minho.”

Minho’s expression changed. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He even moved his arms back from Chan, clasping tighter against his chest. 

“We can go. It’s okay, Min.”

So they did. Chan could have asked the man and his wife to stop but...he didn’t want to hurt Minho. The attention would only cause Minho to panic. Just by his expression at the table, Chan knew the best decision was to leave. To get Minho out of there. 

But when they got to the car he didn’t really expect Minho to burst into tears. He hadn’t seen it in so long. Not since Minho broke down years ago. Suddenly Chan’s chest was extra tight, and Minho was sniffling, sobbing into his sleeve. 

It’s really the last thing Chan wanted.

“Can I hold you, Min?” Chan asked hesitantly, brushing hair from Minho’s wet cheek. Man, really this was the last fucking thing he wanted. 

Minho just nodded, basically collapsing against Chan in the car, soft chokes and sobs causing Chan’s heart to tighten. 

“I should have said something.”

“N-no.” Minho whimpered, keeping his face close in Chan’s neck, “leaving was g-good.”

The stuttering. Minho had gotten better. He didn’t stammer once when he was with the waitress. But suddenly he was shaking, stuttering, and cracking. 

“Just breathe, okay?” Chan drowned, running his fingers through Minho’s hair. 

They were silent for a while after that, Minho calmed within a few minutes and was curled up in Chan’s grasp. But they hadn’t said much else. Nor had they left the parking garage. Minho was just silent. 

Chan had to break the silence, “Minho, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Minho spoke, voice so small. He still sounded so defeated, “I just want to leave.”

“Want me to take you home? Maybe we could watch a movie with—“

“I want to go to your apartment.”

Chan stilled, turning the car on as Minho settled back against his seat, “my apartment?”

“I don’t want to go home right now. They’ll ask a million questions if they see me like this.” Minho huffed, crossing his arms, seeming adamant on keeping the bandages wrist hidden. 

“Okay. My apartment it is. I’ll call and let them—“

“I’ll text them later. I just need to get out of here, okay?” Minho was being impatient, but reasonable. He didn’t want to be here anymore. That was fine. Chan would take him away. Anything Minho wanted right now, he’d do his best to give. 

——

“Did you message Felix or Seungmin?” Chan asked, handing Minho a glass of water. 

“Not yet. I will.” He whispered, taking tiny sips before placing the glass at the coffee table, eyes fixated on the city view. Minho loved that view. He told Chan the night he stayed here that he loved the view. Minho hadn’t seen it since that night. The drunk night Chan made Minho stay. 

“I missed this.” He spoke, eyes glistening as he watched in complete adoration, “why don’t we ever come back here?”

“You know why.” Chan teased, taking a seat besides Minho. 

“Why can’t we?”

Chan winced, taking a quick sip of his own water before placing it beside Minho’s, “minho—“

“I’m serious. Why are you so scared to touch me?” 

Chan was terrified of Minho bringing this up. Because he wasn’t sure how to respond. Minho probably thought that Chan just didn’t want to touch him. But that wasn’t it. He was so scared he’d give Minho bad memories. There wasn’t a part of him that Jisung hadn’t destroyed. The last thing Chan wanted was to remind Minho of that man. 

Minho turned away, letting out a laugh of disbelief, “I could hear everything they were saying. How repulsed they were just at the sight of it.”

“Minho—“

“Why is it so disgusting? It’s bandaged. I keep it wrapped and I don’t go flaunting it. I don’t go around asking people to stare at it so why do they?” Minho was shaking again, “why do they stare and why do they comment like I want this?”

Chan winced, scooting himself closer to him, placing a hand at Minho’s thigh. And of course Minho let out a tiny whine. One of Jisungs touches. This is why Chan was terrified to touch him. He didn’t know where was safe. 

“I’m so—“

“No that’s another thing,” Minho sniffled, “I’m tired of not being able to control myself. I get so tense for no reason at the tiniest things. You touch my neck and I panic, you try to kiss my hand, I panic. You one time touch my thigh and I—“ Minho threw his head back, biting his lip hard, “I just want things to be normal again. Why is it taking so long?”

Chan’s heart sank. He moved his hand to Minho’s waist, thumb caressing the visible skin, “Minho...what should I do? Is there anything I can do to make things better for you? What can I do to make you comfortable?”

Minho let out a shaky breath, turning his face to Chan’s. He had tears in his eyes. He was doing his best to keep them from falling, “I just want you to touch me.”

Chan shuddered before taking Minho’s face in his hand, pressing their lips together. They’d kissed a lot, and often. They kissed all the time. Sweet kisses that turned passionate. Always. 

Minho kissed him back, inching closer. Minho just wanted to feel something. Chan could see it. But he didn’t know how far to take it. When to pull away. How much Minho actually wanted this. Chan didn’t know. 

But as soon as Minho was pushing Chan down against the couch, his anxiety peaked. The last thing he wanted to do was this. Well, of fucking course he wanted to do this. But not like this. Not when Minho was still healing and would only regret it later. Chan would hate himself for that. 

“Minho, stop.” Chan hated the pained whine that escaped Minho’s lips as Chan pulled them back upright, and he hated the hurt in Minho’s eyes, “not like this.”

Minho winced, eyes darting away to the floor, “why won’t you…”

Shit. 

“It’s not that. It’s not that.” Chan repeated, taking Minho’s face into both hands, wiping away the beginning of tears at either corner, “you know I want to touch you.”

“Why do you pull away? Are you scared of me—“

“No. Not one bit.” Chan clarified, scooting Minho into his lap, continuously dealing with the tears in the man’s eyes, “it’s not that.”

“Then why?”

“The last thing you need is...Minho it’s too soon for that. Too soon to even think about that.” 

“I’m tired of feeling….” Minho let out a heavy breath before nuzzling into Chan’s hand, “I just want you to touch me, Chan…and I wanna touch you. But—“ he moved his arms, pulling the sleeve of his jacket to his wrist, “I can’t in the way I want to. And it’s all I want.” Minho let out a little choked sob and it was enough to Chan to wrap around him, holding him tight against his chest. 

He just wanted Minho to feel better. He wanted Minho to be okay. He didn’t want him to suffer or hurt anymore. He liked him. He cared so deeply for him. He just wanted him to be okay. 

“Chan, can I please touch you?” Minho whispered, pulling himself away to stare into his eyes, sad yet serious. Chan wasn’t even sure how to reply, “just…let me do it.”

“Minho…”

“Please?” 

Before Chan could even answer Minho had his hand underneath Chan’s shirt, the feeling of his delicate fingers over Chan’s stomach causing him to let out a content breath. 

It was nice. 

“Chan…” Minho was inching himself dangerously. And it was sending jolts of worry down Chan’s spine. 

“Minho, you don’t have to. Seriously, we can go to bed.”

“Can I?” His fingers were trailing down Chan’s stomach to his waistband. It was tempting. But was he doing this because he wanted to? Or because he thought he had to? 

“You don’t have to do th—.”

“I want to.” Minho cut him off, the sound of Chan’s zipper buzzing through the apartment. Minho was serious. But it was unsettling. Chan didn’t know if this was what Minho really wanted. 

Chan brushed his hand through Minho’s hair as the younger man unbuttoned his pants. He wasn’t sure what he should do. Stop Minho and make him feel bad? Or allow Minho to do it? It wasn’t like Chan didn’t want it. He did. But did Minho actually want it?

Minho’s breath was so warm against him, Chan was struggling to keep himself together as Minho pressed his lips to the cloth of his underwear. He was so tense. So worried that Minho was only doing this because he felt like he had to. 

“Calm down.” Minho murmured, pressing soft kisses to the clothed length before fingers made their way under Chan’s waistband. 

Chan let out a strained sigh, hand in Minho’s hair again, brushing through the pretty locks of hair. 

“Minho, please don’t think you have to do this. In any way.”

“I want to.”

Minho’s fingers were touching him. And he was sure he’d lose it at any moment. He’d known Minho for so long now; but it still didn’t feel like it had been long enough. 

“Relax.” Minho was whispering. And suddenly cool air hit Chan’s cock, causing him to bite his lip hard, eyes fixating on Minho’s flustered expression. 

“You’re so big.” Minho sounded exasperated as his hand took his length, the smooth delicate digits so nice against his skin. 

“Minho…” Chan was flustered. He really didn’t even think about what Minho had been with before. How big or small Jisung and Hyunjin were. That part worried him, too. He only knew those two. Besides the girl he slept with in high school, he only knew them. 

“It’s fine,” Minho shuddered, the feeling of Minho’s tongue against his length causing Chan to press his head back into the cushions of the couch. Fucking hell. It was so sudden. Too much. 

Minho’s tongue trailed him before the warmth of his mouth took over. Chan was doing everything he could not to thrust into his mouth. Chan wasn’t rough at all, but part of him wanted to fuck his mouth. Which was a bad idea. The literal worst thing Chan could do. He wouldn’t. He’d be slow. Gentle. 

Minho’s teeth teased against him before Chan gasped out, refraining from bucking his hips as Minho started to bob his head, tongue wrapping at his length teasingly. Jesus Christ. Chan would compliment him, but the only experience Minho had with this were bad ones. Chan was so conflicted. It felt so good. Clearly Minho knew what he was doing. 

Chan’s head spun as Minho’s fingers dug into his hip, Chan’s own hand tightening in Minho’s ash-colored hair. He loved this color. It was so pretty. Minho was so—he shouldn’t use that word. That was a vile word. Minho was beautiful. Fantastic. Amazing. Pretty wasn’t something he should ever use. “I’m gonna cum, Minho.” Of all things to say….

Minho pulled off of Chan with a pop, causing Chan to stir and writhe a bit.

“You’re gonna what?” Minho whispered, fingers moving down to press against Chan’s slit, causing him to let out a strained moan. 

“Minho if you don’t stop I’m going to bust.”

“Do it. It’s okay.” Minho assured, pressing down harder. 

“Jesus Christ, Minho.” Chan shuddered, angling Minho’s face with his hand, watching the glint in the younger man’s eyes, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not.” Minho sighed, blinking twice before pulling away from Chan’s grasp, bobbing his head back down along Chan’s length, focusing deliberately on the most sensitive part, Chan releasing tiny moans and cries. 

“Minho I don’t wanna cum in your mouth—“

Minho hummed in reply, causing Chan to release a much louder moan of satisfaction. 

“Minho I’m serious. I don’t think I should—“

“It’s fine. I want you to.” Minho hissed back before getting back to work, using his hand to pump Chan’s length as his mouth teased him. 

He couldn't control himself anymore. Chan found himself thrusting upwards, causing Minho to make little gagging sounds — something he was trying so hard to avoid. But the pressure was too great. Minho was working him up too well. 

And within moments Chan had both hands in Minho’s hair, hips shaking as he came. He hoped he hadn’t startled Minho with the hold he had in his hair, fingertips tangled in every lock. 

Minho took a moment, continuing to pump Chan before pulling himself off , gasping for air as he scooted up Chan’s body. 

Chan was panting so hard, watching Minho’s every expression until their lips met again, those plump lips with the slight aftertaste of Chan lingering. It wasn’t terrible at all. Chan ate well and it didn’t taste as trash as it could have. It was decent. 

“Chan, was that okay?” Minho sounded worried as he curled into him, nuzzling against Chan’s shoulder, “I’m sorry if I pushed it.”

Minho didn’t push anything. Everything Chan wanted was for him. For this beautiful man laying beside him. 

“I loved every second, Minho.” Chan sounded tired as he brushed his fingertips along Minho’s arm, glad he took the jacket off earlier, “do you want me to?”

“No. It’s okay,” there was a slight panic in Minho’s voice. He wasn’t ready to be touched. Chan knew that at least. 

They didn’t talk after that. Chan stayed up most of the night, watching Minho doze off, sleeping soundly against him. He cared so much for him. Wanted the very best for him. 

Chan rest his head against the headboard, fingertips briefly touching Minho’s hair. He wished he was bold. Bold enough to just let his hand settle in his hair. Bold enough to let his hair settle in between his fingers. But he wasn’t. 

“I don’t know what to do with you.” Chan frowned, watching the sleeping man curiously, “I just want you to be happy.”

——

Morning was definitely...abrupt. Chan grimaced as the warm sunlight smacked against his face, causing him to curl over onto his side, fingers feeling around. Oh? Minho wasn’t there. 

Chan let out an aggravated huff as he pulled himself up, glancing around the empty room. Minho wasn’t there. Panic started to settle. Had he gone home alone? Was last night too much? The last thing Chan wanted was for last night to have been too much for Minho. He would lose it. He would—

“Morning.” 

The door swung open and Chan’s chest calmed, breathing shifting as Minho appeared. His hair was so messy...so tousled and cute. He was also...in one of Chan’s shirts. 

“Your room gets really hot at night.” Minho complained, settling back onto the bed, blocking the sun from hitting Chan’s face. Jesus, the way the light peeked around Minho’s face was...shit. 

“Are you still asleep? It’s almost eleven.”

“Thank god i don’t have work today,” Chan started, fingertips brushing along Minho’s bare thigh. He didn’t mean to. He fucking forgot. 

Minho winced. But that was it. Chan barely even noticed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry.” Chan removed his fingers hastily, offering Minho an apologetic smile. 

“How are you ever going to get anywhere with you apologizing like that?”

“Minho—“

Minho shook his head, tugging the covers up before slipping underneath, curling himself against Chan. He was so close. So fucking close that Minho’s legs were touching his own. Nearly wrapping around them. 

“I literally had your dick in my mouth last night. I think I can handle you touching me a little.”

“Minho…” Chan trailed off, nuzzling his face into Minho’s hair, “I’m just—“

“Stop thinking.” Minho laughed, “just stop thinking.”

“I don’t know how to react around you.”

“Stop trying to be my therapist,” Minho huffed, “boyfriend. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I know—“

“So be a good boyfriend and…” Minho took a deep breath before taking out his phone. He must’ve grabbed it from the living room earlier, “get ready to go out. We’re having lunch with Seungmin and Lix.”

Chan inhaled, fingertips brushing ever so slightly along Minho’s hip. Minho didn’t even flinch this time. Maybe the hip was okay. Maybe the hip was...a place Jisung hadn’t ruined. 

“Why so suddenly?”

“We have stuff to talk about.”

Chan let his hand rest against Minho’s side, fingers settling comfortably against Minho’s flawless skin, “we do?”

“Oh yeah. Tons.” Minho’s tone...he wasn’t, Chan wasn’t sure how to place it. 

“...you don’t sound happy. Are you okay?”

“We’ll talk at lunch.”

“Minho.”

Minho huffed, eyes finally meeting Chan’s. He was...he looked so angry. 

“Minho...What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“‘Minho.”

“Later. Can we get up and shower?”

“We?” Chan but his lip as Minho slid out of the bed, hand outstretched, “what do you mean we—“

“Jesus Christ Chan, we as in both is us. Together.”

“I thought you had a thing about not…Minho are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He was lying, “now come shower with me before I scream.”

Chan had never felt more awkward. It was weird. Standing there, eyes constantly straining at the ceiling as water hit his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never...he had washed Minho’s hair. Plenty times. This? What the fuck was this? 

“Chan are you in middle school?” Minho snickered, fingertips brushing along Chan’s chest, “I told you it’s fine.”

“The therapist inside of me is saying you’re lying to me,” Chan blurted, keeping his head high. 

“You’re so helpless...you haven’t even peeked, have you?” Minho sighed, hand slipping to cup Chan’s chin, “you can look. It’s fine.”

“Why are you being so bold all of a sudden?” Chan let his eyes hit Minho’s, “suddenly you—“

“I told you. I want you to touch me.”

“I got that bit but…”

“I’m naked. Right in front of you. And you haven’t peeked once?”

“Minho, believe me I—“

“You’re allowed.”

“I don’t want to make you think of—“

“Great. Awesome,” Minho huffed again, “did you forget that you’re not him?”

“Just last night you were terrified when I touched your thigh—“

Minho groaned before pulling Chan’s face towards his own, water hitting his hair as Minho locked their lips. 

This was so fucking random. So unexpected. 

“Chan, you not looking at me is pissing me off.” Minho whispered, breaths warm and inviting, “just look.”

“I care about you,” Chan breathed out, “so much.”

“So look.”

Chan gave Minho a worried look, watching as the younger man’s eyes grew weary. He really wanted Chan to look, didn’t he?

“Okay…” Chan’s breath was shaky. He wasn’t sure what to do. What to say when he finally did look down. He’d never...All he had was that horrific video. Some of Minho’s sessions. He knew what it looked like. Knew that Minho had a little scar on his stomach. He knew Minho’s body. So why was he so terrified? 

His eyes slowly left Minho’s, trailing down his collarbone to his chest, to his stomach...his cute stomach, to his…Chan wasn’t sure what to say. What to do. This was the first time he had...the first time he’d seen it so close. So personal. 

“Remember what you asked me yesterday?”

Chan was glued, mesmerized in a way. He expected it, but it was a lot to handle. Minho being hard wasn’t helping. Not one bit. 

“You asked to return the favor…”

Chan but his lip, eyes lingering back up Minho’s torso, finding those lovely eyes again, “Minho…”

“I need to break away from being terrified, right?”

“Minho you reacted so...you clearly didn’t want me to touch—“

“Well I do now.” Minho was being insane. Just last night the sheer mention of touching Minho had caused him to panic. 

“I can’t. Not if you don’t actually—“

“Chan, please?”

Chan stilled, biting down against his bottom lip hard as Minho wrapped his arms around Chan’s neck, pressing their bodies close. So close that Chan could feel Minho’s heat. 

“Minho…”

“Just touch me...you don’t have to do what I did yesterday just...your hand would be nice.” Minho’s face was red. And he was shaking. Chan couldn’t read him. Suddenly Minho’s boldness was too much. The hell was he supposed to do?

“My…”

“Yes.” Minho sighed, blinking innocently like he wasn’t causing Chan’s heart to race, “if you want to.”

“But do /you/ want to?”

“Why the fuck would I ask?” Minho whined, pressing their bodies even closer. Chan was going to lose it. Absolutely lose it. 

But Minho’s neediness was winning. The glint in his eyes, the wet hair that stuck to his face and the cute pout that sat at his lips. Chan didn’t stand a chance. 

“Let me turn the heat up.” Chan whispered, hands making their way to settle on Minho’s hips. 

Minho showered hot. Enjoyed the heat. Chan learned it was because Jisung hated hot showers. Chan didn’t mind. 

“Don’t think I don’t want this.” Minho’s voice was small as Chan’s fingertips caressed along his hip bone, thumb just briefly touching Minho’s length. 

“I just want you to be sure.”

“I am.” 

Another pout and Chan couldn’t take it. Though slow, he managed to run his fingertips over the most sensitive part of Minho, causing him to throw his head back some, tiny sigh escaping his lips. 

Six thousand thoughts. Chan wasn’t sure what to do. He’d...he most definitely had touched other dicks before. He had gotten other guys off. He wasn’t new to this. But Minho? Minho wasn’t the average...he wasn’t the same. Minho was special. Needed extra care...extra caution. 

Minho tightened his arms around Chan’s neck, leaning in closer to Chan, breath at his ear. It was a little unsteady. Chan would keep note of that. He had to make sure Minho was one hundred percent on board with this. 

Minho was shivering. That was probably just from the action itself. Chan took that as an opportunity to finally touch him, hand slowly wrapping around Minho’s shaft. He wasn’t that big. Honestly both of Chan’s hands could easily devour him whole. It was cute. But maybe Chan just had large hands. Minho wasn’t /that/ small. 

A moan hit Chan’s ear as he moved his hand along Minho’s length. He was getting harder by the second. They’d both be whiny messes soon, he thought. 

“Chan…” Minho’s voice was so low. Chan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it so low, “can we try...can you?” His words weren’t coming out. He was flustered, shaky. 

“Can we try what, Minho?” Chan didn’t mean for his own voice to be so soft and low, it only seemed to make Minho even shakier, “what do you want?” He halted his movement as Minho’s length, thumb pressing down against his slit with enough force to have Minho’s head back again. 

Minho’s breath was so messy. Chan kept his eyes focused on Minho’s expression as the younger man pulled himself back. But it only lasted a moment. Minho slipped his hand from behind Chan’s neck, closing the gap between them as he reached down to pry Chan’s fingers away. 

Chan was terrified. Was Minho panicking? Did he want Chan to stop?

Oh. Minho was shaking. Chan could barely register what Minho was doing. It took him so long to grasp that Minho’s hand was wrapping around both of their lengths, locking fingers with Chan’s. 

“This…” Minho whined, bucking his hips slightly as his arm tightened around Chan’s neck, hand very agonizingly slow at their length, moving centimeters. 

“Are you sure?”

Why was Chan even asking? At this point their dicks were pressed together, feeling of Minho’s sensitive tip rubbing along his own despite the size difference. Chan was just a lot thicker. He wondered what Jisung and Hyunjin were like. He imagined definitely not as thick considering Minho’s astonishment in Chan’s size the other night. 

“Chan, can you move?” Minho whispered, breath so staggered. 

“Yeah…” Chan moved his fingers, gliding along with Minho’s tight around, the tug of foreskin causing Chan to knit his brows. 

He was doing everything to stay calm. To be as careful as possible despite Minho picking up the pace as his lips started to dance along Chan’s. It was definitely nice. Scary, but nice. Every gasp and whimper from Minho sent Chan’s head spinning. He just wanted this to be perfect for Minho. He wanted Minho to enjoy it. 

Chan felt the heat rising in his stomach, Minho must have been ready too, he was shaky, fingertips starting to press a little harder into Chan’s. Chan wouldn’t return that. He knew Minho’s hand was still recovering. He didn’t want to snap those cute fingers. No way. 

“Chan I can’t…” Minho let out a choked cry, lips quivering as he bucked his hips more, the slide causing Chan’s head to spin. 

“Do you want to?” Chan whispered, moving his free hand to cup Minho’s jaw, thumb caressing the corner of Minho’s mouth, “I’m not gonna last either.”

“I do.” Minho shuddered, lips parted slightly. Chan couldn’t resist the urge, he slipped his thumb inside of that pretty mouth, just a bit. Minho’s eyes were so hazy, mouth seeming to welcome him as he tongue rolled slightly against him. 

Jesus Christ. 

Chan came first. He wasn’t sure how the fuck he was supposed to hold it with Minho being that fucking irresistible. He let out choked gasps of his own, the feeling of his own cum splashing between them only to be washed away consumed him. 

Minho stifled a laugh, tongue still teasing his thumb as Minho’s fingers moved from Chan’s grasp, clasping around the heads of both of their cocks. Jesus fucking Christ. 

“Minho!” Chan was shaking now, Minho’s palm rolling over his tip. This little shit was going to kill him like this. 

“Is it too much?” He laughed, breaths starting to get more unsteady. He’d come at any second. 

“No, it’s so nice.” Chan wasn’t lying. It felt amazing, Minho’s hand wrapped around like that. It felt so good that Chan hadn’t realized his hand was wrapped around their lengths tight, pumping both of them as Minho’s hand worked at the head. 

His head was spinning, overstimulation from Minho’s hand causing him to nearly stumble back. Falling in the shower would be so embarrassing. Part of him wanted to collapse.pull Minho on top of him and—no. That was an awful idea. 

Minho’s eyes shut tight, thumb slipping from his lips as he but down on his own, jaw rising ever so slightly. Chan could barely grasp that he’d finally cum, the hand stilling over them as Minho’s hips bucked a few times. 

Watching Minho reach his orgasm was...shit. He was so beautiful. The water splashing over him only made him look ten times more ethereal. Was Minho even fucking real? 

——

“Thank you.” Minho whispered, nuzzling against Chan’s neck as they lay comfortably in Chan’s bed, “for that. For not...for not telling me no.”

Part of Chan probably should have said no. But the other part was so lost in euphoria…”it was really nice, even if you seemed to do more work than I did.”

“You’re still too scared to touch me.”

“You don’t make it easy. I offered last night.”

Minho huffed. It was almost too cute. Chan wanted to laugh, but Minho seemed a little serious, “I know. I was just...I don’t know. I should have let you.”

“No, take your time.” Chan nodded, hand finally managing to caress Minho’s scalp, strands of drying hair so soft against his fingertips. 

“You can push me sometimes. It might help.” Minho sighed, “we should really...get dressed.”

“Oh shit—what time were we supposed to meet them?”

“Lunch. It’s...I guess it’s lunchtime now. We didn’t specify anything. I just told them we should eat lunch together.”

“Wanna tell me what we’re going to be talking about?” Chan asked, eyeing Minho curiously. 

Minho swallowed hard, “just...some stuff. Stuff I was curious about.”

The discomfort in Chan’s chest was starting to rise, “what kind of stuff?”

Minho got serious again, lifting himself off of Chan to stare at him. Chan could have sworn he saw a glare, “secrets. Things I’ve heard.”

It was like Chan’s biggest fear was materializing. He’d done so much to keep Minho from...the truth. Is that what Minho meant? 

“What do you—“

“This is what I mean,” Minho started, “you’re hiding something from me. You both are.”

“Minho—“

“No, the whole point of getting you two together is to get the truth.”

“Truth about…,” Minho’s eyes darkened as Chan spoke, “that night?”

Minho nodded, expression softening slightly, “I just want you two to tell me the truth. I shouldn’t have had to hear it while I was shaking in Seungmins bed.”

Shit. So he heard? 

“It’s not that...I wanted to tell you I just—“

Minho clasped his hand over Chan’s mouth, “save it for when Seungmin is there. I’m more upset with him than I am you.”

“Minho he—“

“No. He kept this from me. He literally...I don’t even know what to think about him right now. I’ve been trying to keep it in for months but…” Minho shook his head, “part of me just wants to understand why him and Felix approached me at the funeral. Why they got so close to me...why Seungmin lied about even knowing Changbin.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. 

Chan didn’t know that Minho had overheard all of that. He made sure to leave the room. How the fuck had Minho heard!?

“I just want you two to be honest. I don’t know how you figured him out but...I just want the truth.” Minho released his hand, eyes weary, “that’s all I expect out of you. Truth.”

“Minho…” Chan pulled himself upright, wrapping his arms securely around Minho’s waist, “I’ll...I can tell you everything. Even if he doesn’t. I’ll tell you everything I can. I still don’t know...I’m honestly still at a crossroads with him. We don’t talk and I’m pretty sure he avoids me but...I’ll tell you everything I know, okay?”

Minho smiled at that, just a little. 

“I’m sorry that I even...I just didn’t want to hurt you.” Chan wished he could tell how Minho was feeling. Obviously he wasn’t upset at Chan to the point of breakdown. They literally just got each other off in the shower...Minho was definitely more upset with Seungmin. 

“Let’s get ready...I’m trusting you to tell me everything. I’m hoping he’s able to do the same.”

——

Chan felt so tense. Minho told them to meet them at a cafe. Minho said that it’s where Changbin asked him to go when he’d returned to Korea. Something about the cafe being a good place to come clean. 

The whole situation was terrifying. How calm Minho was as he scanned the menu, keeping himself pressed against Chan in the booth. It was so normal. So domestic. It was scaring him. 

Felix came into view first, freckles on full display as he slid into the booth. Chan was a little anxious to see Seungmin settled on the outside. If things got too hard he could easily run off. Part of him really wished Felix had sat there instead. 

“You two look cozy.” Felix started, wiggling his brows to Minho to receive one of Minho’s genuine giggles, “you two have a date night?”

Minho shook his head, resting against Chan more comfortably, “something like that, how was your night?”

Felix rolled his eyes then, giving Seungmin a look that clearly stated it wasn’t a nice one. 

“Seungmin?” Felix smiled questionably. 

Seungmins gaze shifted to Minho before falling to the table, “I was working all night.”

“Working all night /again/, I swear you spend more time with those corpses than you do me.” Felix burst into giggles, hand clasping over Seungmins at the table, “but it’s okay...we have tonight, you promised.”

Minho inhaled deeply. Maybe that was a warning. A warning that after this conversation nobody would be having a nice night...it stung. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Minho spoke up, crossing his arms at the table. He wore a sweater again, “it’s important.”

Seungmin shot Chan a quick look. He must’ve known. The fear in the man’s eyes was prominent. 

“About that night.”

Felix’s eyes landed on the table, “that night…”

“What about it, Min?”

Minho was struggling to speak, biting at his bottom lip, “I-I don’t know if you should be here, f-Felix.”

Shit. 

“Minho this isn’t—“

“N-no it is.” He was stuttering again, shaking. Minho had seemed so confident and Chan should have known better. 

“Why can’t I be?” Felix seemed hurt. He looked so small, so fragile. Chan felt so much for him. He’d been nothing but kind, minus hooking Minho on cigarettes. 

“I-it’s better if you. If I just. Seungmin. I should seungmin…” he wasn’t going to be able to do this. Chan could see how shaky he was getting. How much this really affected him. 

“Minho, what’s going on?” Felix was moving his hand now, placing his fingers securely over Minho’s arms, “Min, you’re shaking…”

“Minho we should go. This isn’t the time…”

“No!” Minho was hyperventilating, “I need to know. I want to know why you hid this from me!”

Seungmins face fell. He knew. 

“Minho, hey calm down...look at me,” Felix was wincing, brushing his hands up and down Minho’s arm. He really was an angel. But shit, Maybe Felix shouldn’t have been here. 

“Minho…” Seungmins voice was broken, his eyes shaky. 

“Why were you there!?” Minho choked out, eyes glued to Seungmin who was starting to shudder, “w-why were you there that night?”

Felix let out an audible gasp, eyes moving to Seungmin as well, “you were there?”

Seungmin looked like he wanted to bolt. Chan was sure he would. But he didn’t. He sat there, inhaling deeply before locking his hands together at the table, “...changbin—“

“Cut the shit, Seungmin. I know you and Changbin weren’t friends. I fucking heard you.”

Chan winced. He was trying so hard to remember that conversation. It was...years ago. 

“You didn’t know him at all.”

Felix released Minho’s arms, folding into himself. He seemed so uncomfortable. 

“Minho I—“

“So Jisung gossiped about hurting me, huh?”

Chan shook his head, watching Seungmin fall apart across from him. 

“Answer me. I don’t want excuses.” Minho was trying so hard to stay calm. He was failing miserably, but he was trying. 

“Seungmin...what the fuck?” Felix was more defeated than Minho. 

“I—“

“You told me you tracked Changbin’s phone at first.” Chan butt in, getting a choked sigh from Felix, “and then you told me that you didn’t know Changbin at all. You said that Jisung said something alarming but that doesn’t explain how long you were—“ Chan stopped, Seungmin was practically glaring at him. 

“I heard a lot of that too…” Minho whispered, “Seungmin how long were you there? What did Jiusng say?” Minho was more concerned with the truth than the fact they hid things from him. Maybe Chan wouldn’t lose him. But the thought came to mind...Minho never wanting to speak to him again. 

“Minho…”

“Tell him. Whatever you did, tell him.” Felix was sniffling, trying to compose himself. 

“Felix I—“

“Tell him.”

Seungmin closed his eyes, biting his lip hard before directing his entire focus on Minho, “I got there...before the fight.”

Chan wanted to vomit. 

Minho just nodded, seeming way too fucking calm. It had to be a facade. There was absolutely no way that he was okay. 

“I got there before he went off the edge. I got there…” Seungmin looked like he was cracking, “I saw Changbin.”

Minho exhaled, eyes falling to the table. 

“I saw…”

“How much did you see?” Minho’s voice was low. Dark. Menacing. Anything but the soft, warm sunshine that Chan was so used to. 

“Minho…”

“Did you see him throw me into the hole?”

Chan watched Seungmin closely, agony in his eyes and sweat pounding down the side of his face. This motherfucker...he was there way longer than they’d thought. 

“Did you see him smash my hand? You seemed pretty composed when you told Chan you wrapped it.”

Seungmin stayed silent. 

“Did you hear me begging him to stop?” This wasn’t going well. It wouldn’t end well. Everything Chan had been working with Minho would crash. Everything. Seungmin would dismantle the trust. He’d dismantle Minho. 

“Minho, Stop.” Chan whispered, grabbing onto Minho’s hand, “stop.”

Minho shook his head with a laugh, shaking Chan off to roll his sleeve up to expose the bandaged wrist, “were you there long enough that you could have prevented this?”

Seungmin couldn’t take it. He was out of the booth fast, pushing passed one of the servers as he made his way towards the exit. 

Chan had never felt more anxious. More sick. 

“Move.” Minho commanded, scooting closer to Chan in the booth, “move or I swear to god I will never speak to you again.”

Chan quickly moved, Minho shoving passed him after Seungmin. Chan had no fucking clue what to do. Did he go after him? Did he let Minho confront him alone? 

“We should go after them.” Felix sounded so broken as he slid out of the booth, leaving some won at the table before walking passed Chan to the door. 

He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted Minho to confront Seungmin alone. They needed to talk alone. But another part knew he should be there. Not just to keep Minho safe, but to keep his own sanity. 

“How could you keep that from me?” Minho was crying, shaking as he stood in front of Seungmin. Within minutes he was a wreck. His composure had dwindled to nothing, “how long were you there? Why didn’t you stop him, Seungmin?”

Seungmin was so still. He clearly looked upset. But another part of him looked too calm. Too composed. Seungmin was such a fucking wildcard...and this? Jesus Christ. 

Felix stood close, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Clearly Felix didn’t know anything. He didn’t know anything at all, which meant that Seungmin had kept this information from everyone. 

“Please...please tell me the truth. Please, Seungmin…” Minho looked so bad. Chan knew holding him would only stop the conversation. Seungmin wouldn’t answer and Minho would break down. 

Seungmin glanced to Chan once more before looking down at Minho’s wrist, shaky fingers reaching out to brush along the bandages. Minho didn’t move. Didn’t try to shove him away. 

“I got there early on.” Chan really wanted to vomit. How the fuck did Seungmin manage to let all of that happen? “I heard you. I heard Changbin. I heard everything. I saw everything…”

Minho let out a choked cry but kept his eyes on Seungmin, “why didn’t you do anything?”

“Jisung threatened Felix.”

Felix was so still. 

“I was there to...I was terrified of him. I only did something when he went off the edge.”

“So you…,” Minho was so shaky, shit. Minho needed to be held. “You watched everything? What?” He sounded so...he couldn’t believe it. Chan could either. 

“I got to you as soon as I could...I wrapped your hand and—“

“You shoved pills down my throat.”

Chan’s eyes widened. 

“You...I was in so much pain and I couldn’t focus but you…” Minho looked as if he’d realized something, and it was horrifying, “the pills came from your pocket. You...they said the sedatives were consistent with the ones he’d used on me earlier that day you…”

Seungmin looked away. 

Chan was ten seconds from beating his face into the ground. Ten seconds from ripping this man to shreds. 

“He stole them from my office earlier in the day.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me…”

“He stole them. I found out it was him. That same day he threatened /my/ boyfriend. Felix was my main priority. When Jisung went off the edge I did everything I could to help you.”

“Why didn’t you just call the fucking police?” Minho whispered, “why didn’t you call?”

“Reception...I couldn’t call till I was leaving the mountains.”

Chan wanted to kill him. 

“So you just…” Minho stammered, “you were going to watch him kill me?”

Seungmin finally had tears rolling down his cheeks. Like he gave a shit. Chan was so worried. So stressed. He hadn’t told Chan the truth either. Nothing Seungmin had said that night was truthful. 

“I didn’t…” seungmin closed his eyes, “I didn’t know you. I didn’t…”

“You didn’t care? If I was killed it wouldn’t matter?” 

Chan couldn’t watch this any longer. Minho was losing it. He was spiraling, shaking and barely making sense. He grabbed him, Minho practically melting against him. His shirt was instantly wet, and Minho was shaking so much that Chan felt so...he was just sick. 

“Seungmin...we should go.” Felix whispered. 

Chan shot Seungmin a look as the younger man stumbled passed. 

“No!” Minho moved, grabbing hold of Seungmins wrist. Chan could tell he was gripping too hard. Seungmin was wincing. 

“Minho...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Minho.” Seungmin was so shaky, halting himself to look Minho in the eye. 

Chan was using all the strength he had not to deck him. 

“Minho...when I got there...all I wanted to do was leave.” Seungmin was shaking, “but I couldn’t I couldn’t leave he was going to kill you…”

“Why did you stay?” Minho sobbed, his grip still on Chan. He wanted to take Minho away. But Minho’s grip on Seungmin was so tight. 

“If I left he was going to...I didn’t know what to do. If I left to call what if he—I couldn’t move.”

“So you just watched?” Felix speaking up gave Chan a mini heart attack. 

Seungmin looked to Felix briefly before rubbing Minho’s hand. Chan wanted to stop it, but it was so comforting to Minho. He could feel Minho relax as Seungmin touched his hand, “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think he would...I never knew he’d do that.”

Minho just nodded, breathing calming considerably. He hated that Seungmin could still be lying to Minho. Nothing Seungmin said was believable. Not anymore...and Jesus Christ Felix. He couldn’t imagine what Felix was feeling. 

“Seungmin...why didn’t you tell me?” Minho whispered, “why did you just tell me in the beginning? Why did you go to the funeral?”

“I felt guilty. I didn’t know how to...how does someone tell another person they witnessed this horrible thing I—I couldn’t focus for months.”

Felix shivered, “He was off…”

Chan couldn’t believe this. 

“Why contact me?”

“I was worried about you...I didn’t know anything about you and suddenly all I wanted to do was protect you.”

Chan felt so nauseous. But he remained silent. He didn’t want Minho to panic. He needed him to calm down. And...unfortunately Seungmins words were working. 

“I didn’t think I’d care about you so much…” Seungmin gasped, holding Minho’s hand tight, “I just wanted you to be okay. I felt like it was my fault...I could have—“

“Stopped it? Told someone?” Felix was cutting in again, this time pulling Seungmins hands away, “Seungmin we should go home.”

Seungmin nodded, rubbing his eyes. Chan felt sick seeing how Minho’s fingers seemed to reach out to his friend. Friend? Was seungmin a friend? 

“Minho...I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” Felix grabbed his arm, tugging him back. “I’m so so sorry…”

Minho just nodded, hand falling to his side as Chan held him more securely. 

This was fucked. This was bullshit. Fucking fucked bullshit. 

——

Minho hadn’t spoken for hours. It was nearly two in the morning and Chan wasn’t sure whether to take Minho home or keep him at the house. He felt horrible. He just wanted to hold him. 

“Minho—“

“You’re not off the hook, either.”

Chan had nearly forgotten his part. Just because Seungmin had been yelled at with questions...he was at fault too. Chan had to remember that. 

“You lied to me. No, you kept something from me. You kept something so...extensive from me.”

“Why didn’t you come to me about it before—“

“You’re so stupid. How are you a therapist?” 

Chan deserved that. 

“I didn’t fully believe him when he told me, Minho. And the last thing...I didn’t want to ruin your friendship. I honestly never wanted you to find out.” Chan could hear Minho’s sigh of disbelief. He saw the man shaking his head at his kitchen counter, “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I was grasping onto Seungmin being your savior.”

“I knew you had a reason to hate him.”

“I don’t hate—“

“You do. You always have. You’ve never liked him the way you do Felix. And I never knew why but...it’s because of this. Because of what he’s done.” Minho lay his head back, “Chan...I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“You have every right to be.”

“Come here.”

Chan listened, standing in front of Minho, eyes glued to the beautiful ones before him. Minho wrapped his legs around Chan some, pulling him close as his fingertips trailed Chan’s stomach, “I can’t hate you.”

“I’m sorry, Minho.”

“Promise you’ll never keep a secret from me again. Please promise me that.”

“I haven’t. That’s the only thing...I really don’t know why I didn’t just tell you.”

“You didn’t think it was your place. It really wasn’t any of your business prying into him like that.”

“Are you defending him?” Chan sighed, caressing Minho’s sides. 

“Not really...you’re both stupid.” Minho actually laughed. It was a relief. To hear that precious laugh. 

“I’m sorry, again. I’ll do everything I can to make things up to you.” Chan sounded stupid. This wasn’t a tiny mistake. This was something that affected Minho’s life. Something that he had every right to know about. 

“Just stay out of it. You’re not my therapist anymore.”

“I was at the time.”

“You’re not anymore. Drop it. Don’t look for anything from that time again, okay?” Minho sighed, leaning forward to brush their lips together, “just don’t.”

Chan found that so hard. Especially now that he knew Seungmin knew more. Knew a lot more. But he’d drop it. He had to. Just as he had for Seunngmin two years ago, he’d drop it. He’d do it for Minho. 

He had to drop it. He loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you.
> 
> A L S O 
> 
> I don’t know why on earth I have to do this but please do not reupload my work under any circumstances. If you’d like to for any reason please message me first, do not reupload my work. If you see my works on wattpad please report them, I will never grant permission for wattpad.  
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